Better to Light a Candle Than Curse the Darkness

Each detail that emerges about the tragic shooting in Connecticut is more devastating than the last, but I cannot turn away. I spent the weekend reading story after story, stories about the victims - twenty (twenty!) precious six and seven year olds and their heroic educators - about the perpetrator, about the community, about gun control and about mental illness, and despite this information overload, I still cannot wrap my mind around what has happened. It is unspeakable, and I just don't know what to do. Because - there has to be something to do. Right? We can't just sit here, crying, watching the news and shaking out heads in disbelief. There has to be something more to do. Right?

I wrote to my representatives, I signed the petition, and I'm going to think more in the coming days about what I can personally do to (besides preach to the choir and shake my fist at the TV) to support the fight for strengthened gun control laws. I believe with every fiber of my being that gun control is a moral imperative, and I am hopeful that this latest tragedy will finally spur some action. I'm still too angry to clearly articulate myself on that at the moment, but I will soon. Still, all of the writing to politicians and asking them to do something feels so small and ineffectual.*

I'm about to get super cheesy here, so consider yourself warned. The political aspect of this is so important, and I'll be following it closely, but I think that, for all of us non-policymakers, the most important thing we can do is be the light and the love that Dr. King talked about. In the wake of any tragedy that threatens our faith in humanity, we must go above and beyond to help restore that faith for ourselves and everyone around us. As usual, Mr. Rogers said it best.

{image sources, clockwise from top left: James Keivom/NY Daily News, Michelle McLoughlin/Reuters, Michelle McLoughlin/Reuters, David Goldman/AP, Michelle McLoughlin/Reuters}

We can't all rush to the scene of the disaster to offer aid, but we can be "helpers" by practicing the small, everyday kindnesses that serve to remind us that people really are basically good. We can hold the door or the elevator, we can let people go ahead of us in line or in traffic, we can offer smiles and kind words to strangers. We can choose patience and compassion over frustration and judgment and forgiveness and understanding over resentment and anger. We can decide to assume the best instead of the worst about people's intentions. These are small things and none of them are going to ease the pain of the families who are grieving instead of celebrating this Christmas, but each one is a small flicker of light, a challenge to the darkness, and a reminder of our basic goodness. We cannot allow all of that pain and grief and suffering to be the end of the story.

It is going to take a lot of love and light to overcome the hate and darkness that descended on Newtown on Friday. We had better get started.

*While you're writing stuff - you can also send cards with messages of love and support to PO Box 3700, Newtown, CT, 06470. The Newtown post office set up the P.O. Box in response to hundreds of calls from people around the world who want to "send their thoughts and prayers in the form of letters, cards, care packages and drawings from their children."  A USPS employee said that they are preparing to handle "an enormous amount of love coming through the mail" in the coming days. See? Basic goodness. 

Public Service Announcement

{courtesy of my 8th grade yearbook}

I realize that not everyone was fortunate enough to have the inimitable Mrs. Donoghue for three years of English instruction in their formative years, so it is with what I hope is the unique blend of firmness and compassion that characterized Mrs. Donoghue's own instructional style that I issue the following public service announcement.

When attempting to explain causation, one can use the word reason or the word because, not both. Everyday I hear very intelligent people say, "The reason _____ is because ______." Stop doing that, people. It's redundant. What they mean to say is, "The reason that I make grammatical errors is Mrs. Donoghue didn't teach at my school." Or, more likely, "I make grammatical errors because Mrs. Donoghue didn't teach at my school."

While we're on the topic of redundancy, let's clear something up, shall we? When we're talking about time, a.m. stands for ante meridiem, which is Latin for before midday or before noon; p.m. stands for post meridiem or after midday. Soooo - you should not say, "Let's meet for coffee at 6 a.m. in the morning" because a.) too early and b.) redundant. Likewise, "I'm going to go out at 10 p.m. tonight" is both redundant and, in my case, probably a lie because that's my bedtime.

Side note - did you know that, in British slang, redundant means "laid off?" Just saying. 

I suspect that Mrs. Donoghue knew that she was meant to be my grammar sensai because she moved from the middle school to the high school the same year that I did. I had her for 7th and 8th grade, but obviously, she sensed that my training was not quite complete, so she took a job at the high school and I had her again in 10th grade. By the time sophomore year rolled around, she had remarried and become Mrs. Hannaford, but that never really stuck and she let those of us who knew her when continue to call her Mrs. Donoghue. I will leave you with this picture from my 12th grade yearbook that perfectly illustrates the awesome that is Mrs. Donoghue/Hannaford.

{pure badassery}

All those other teachers showed up for picture day to get their boring headshots, and Mrs. Donoghue's all, "What's up, students? Prepare to be schooled." 

One last thing - when I was teaching, I gave the same pre-test speech that Mrs. Donoghue recited every, single time that she gave us a quiz or a test, "This is a test. There will be no communicating, sharing,  gathering of information or you will lose your paper, take a zero, no questions asked." We never made a peep. In fact, Taylor Perry once sat there, blood gushing from his nose, raising his hand and waiting for permission to get up because we knew Mrs. Donoghue did not play when it came to tests. I never quite reached that level of mastery, and I'm pretty sure that my students thought I was a little crazy, but I think that was at least half the point. Either way - it worked, just like everything else she taught me.

Rocking the Vote

Rebecca Woolf of Girls Gone Child took the words right out of my mind and inspired me to record my own political musings with her post on faith and hope in politics and marriage. Four years ago, I was full of audacious hope and giddy with the new love buzz I felt for Barack Obama. I cried as he gave his victory speech in Grant Park to a crowd that seemed to vibrate with enthusiasm. 

If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible; who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time; who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer.

It’s the answer told by lines that stretched around schools and churches in numbers this nation has never seen; by people who waited three hours and four hours, many for the very first time in their lives, because they believed that this time must be different; that their voice could be that difference. 
It’s the answer spoken by young and old, rich and poor, Democrat and Republican, black, white, Latino, Asian, Native American, gay, straight, disabled and not disabled –- Americans who sent a message to the world that we have never been a collection of red states and blue states: we are, and always will be, the United States of America. 

It’s the answer that led those who have been told for so long by so many to be cynical, and fearful, and doubtful of what we can achieve to put their hands on the arc of history and bend it once more toward the hope of a better day.

I cried because, well, let's face it, the man has a way with words, but more than that, I knew how much his victory would mean for the students I taught at the time. I knew that the next day, I would go back to school and stand in front of five classes of primarily black and Hispanic kids who would have real, honest-to-God proof that someone who looks like them can rise to the highest position in the land. I think I half expected that the election of the first non-white president would fill my students with unbridled enthusiasm for learning and put them on the fast track to college, full of new-found motivation... I know. Obama tried to temper my expectations that very night, to remind me that the election was not the change but the opportunity, but I was having none of it.

What began twenty-one months ago in the depths of winter must not end on this autumn night. This victory alone is not the change we seek -– it is only the chance for us to make that change. And that cannot happen if we go back to the way things were. It cannot happen without you. 

So let us summon a new spirit of patriotism; of service and responsibility where each of us resolves to pitch in and work harder and look after not only ourselves, but each other. Let us remember that if this financial crisis taught us anything, it’s that we cannot have a thriving Wall Street while Main Street suffers -– in this country, we rise or fall as one nation; as one people.

In 2008, I hung everything on Obama. After eight years of Bush and Cheney and weapons of mass destruction and Mission Accomplished, Obama's election felt like the dawning of a new era, a breath of fresh air, a new start. Everything would be different, and, oh there was much that needed changing. I knew it wouldn't happen overnight, but I was full of hope that our new president would: end partisan back-biting, jump start the economy, solve the immigration problem, pass healthcare reform, enact sane gun laws, end two wars, fix the education system, push clean energy, establish a plan for reducing greenhouse gas emissions, work for the civil rights of the LGBT community and make my 135 students realize the value of education while simultaneously recognize the long-suffering saintliness of their English teacher.  In November of 2008, I was a newlywed, married less than four months, but I was also on a honeymoon with Barack Obama. It was all champagne (literally, we ran across the street to the Vons and bought a bottle as soon as results were finalized) and roses and promises of the halcyon days to come.

To those who seek peace and security -– we support you. And to all those who have wondered if America’s beacon still burns as bright –- tonight we proved once more that the true strength of our nation comes not from our the might of our arms or the scale of our wealth, but from the enduring power of our ideals: democracy, liberty, opportunity, and unyielding hope.   

For that is the true genius of America -– that America can change. Our union can be perfected. And what we have already achieved gives us hope for what we can and must achieve tomorrow. 

This is our time –- to put our people back to work and open doors of opportunity for our kids; to restore prosperity and promote the cause of peace; to reclaim the American Dream and reaffirm that fundamental truth –- that out of many, we are one; that while we breathe, we hope, and where we are met with cynicism, and doubt, and those who tell us that we can’t, we will respond with that timeless creed that sums up the spirit of a people: Yes, we can.  

Four years later, I see him (Obama, not Tom) a little more clearly. I am not as easily wooed by his eloquence (but hot damn - he can turn a phrase), and I have accepted that he is a politician, not a white knight. So when I cast my vote for Obama today, I did it with clear eyes and no illusions but with full faith in his integrity. I voted for him because I believe in women making their own choices about their health and their bodies. I voted for him because I believe that when two people are in love and want to commit their lives to each other, we should celebrate, not denigrate, that.  I voted for him because I believe that we have a responsibility to protect the environment. I voted for him because I want the person who appoints the next Supreme Court justices to share these values. Finally, I voted for Obama because I believe that ensuring that every American has access to affordable health care and a quality education will go a long way toward encouraging the kind of innovation that both parties agree is an integral part of the American economy. [Rob Delaney makes this argument much better than I can.]
Whichever way the election goes, I will be thankful that I live in a country in which transitions of power happen peacefully. I'll take the endless teeth gnashing from the talking heads over riots in the street any day.

2012, the Year of Yes!

{raven over Joshua Tree, December 31, 2011}

I bought Tom a tent for Christmas two years. We've been talking about going camping for at least that long, but for some reason, we never made it happen. When December 29th rolled around and we found ourselves without New Years plans, Tom suggested a spontaneous trip to Joshua Tree. I thought about it for about ten seconds before saying that it sounded like a splendid idea. See, I have decided that 2012 is the year that I say yes to activities that I might otherwise have avoided in favor of hermiting at home. Now, I'm not saying that I'm going to completely forgo hermiting (spell check does not approve of my use of that word as a verb, but I stand by it). I love a cozy evening at home as much as way more than the next guy, but let's face it, exciting adventures are never uncovered from the viewpoint of the couch (not my couch anyway), and I'm a person who considers herself fond of adventure.

It is highly unlikely that my idea of a fun adventure will ever include backpacking into the wilderness with food and shelter strapped to my back, so staying at the campground that featured chemical toilets instead of the flush variety was "roughing it" enough for me. There were, however, signs posted everywhere warning about Africanized "killer" bees, so it still qualifies as adventure. See how that works? We decided to risk it, and settled in at campsite 62.

The night before we left for Joshua Tree, Tom and I split up to run errands. I went to the grocery stores and he headed to the camping store to use a gift card to buy some camping necessities. He came back with the blue bandana you see below (and in almost all pictures from the weekend) and something he called a "poop shovel." When I made it clear that I would never be saying yes to camping where such a tool was necessary, he attempted to backtrack and say that it was for putting the campfire out at night...I remain suspicious.

After setting up camp, i.e. unpacking the car, we explored Indian Cove Campground and climbed around on some of the rock formations.

My favorite moment of the afternoon was looking down on this little amphitheater in the middle of the desert and seeing this guy randomly singing opera music. He was just sitting there, watching his friends rock climb, practicing opera. It was awesome. Thanks to iPhone, I managed to capture a few seconds of the performance. I was so transfixed by the singer that it took me a few minutes to realize that Tom was halfway up this giant rock formation. It's not the greatest recording, so you'll need full volume to hear anything.

After scampering all over the rocks, we headed back to our campsite to enjoy the last couple of hours of daylight.
I checked out the view from the tent.

I did a little reading on rocks and in chairs.

I took pictures.

{Joshua trees}

I made Tom pose for pictures.


Then I made him learn Auld Lang Syne on the guitar.

Then I asked him go to the store (I told you we weren't roughing it) for more wood.

Perhaps it's not surprising that before too long, Tom was sitting on top of this rock.

{Tom's view}

Later, I was invited to join him.

As soon as the sun started to go down, it got really cold*, so we built a fire, and I piled on the layers and snapped a few last pictures.

 

By six o'clock it was completely dark. Like dark, dark. The kind of darkness where it seems like you can see every star that ever was, but you can't see two feet in front of your face. I miss that kind of darkness. It does make it rather difficult to do much of anything, however. Even card games were out. I feel a little bit guilty about this next part because it seems to go against the spirit of camping, but...we eventually whipped out the iPad and played Scrabble. And, actually, it was super fun, so I guess I don't feel that guilty.

The rest of the night consisted of drinking, talking, laughing, and the cooking and eating of steak kabobs and baked sweet potatoes. And, of course, s'mores.

At midnight, we popped the champagne and danced to Sinatra fireside. So cheesy, but so perfect. Maybe it was the champagne or maybe it was the four layers, scarf, and hat that I was wearing, but when it was time for bed, I wasn't terribly cold and I was fast asleep in no time.

The next day, we were up bright, Tom cooked a delicious breakfast of bacon and eggs before we headed out.

{I don't care what he says, this will not be the year of the blue bandana.}

After breakfast, we hit the road with plans to absorb some road trip Americana on the way home.

First stop on our way home - the motel where Gram Parsons died. [He was in The Byrds and The Flying Burrito Brothers; I wouldn't have known either if the documentary that Tom was watching hadn't caught my attention when they detailed how Mr. Parsons' buddy dressed up as a hearse driver, stole Parsons' body from the morgue, drove it out to Josuha Tree and set it ablaze in order to fulfill the singer's wish that he be cremated in the desert and his ashes spread over Cap Rock. Weird, right?]

Anyway, the motel is now run by a certified hippie who sells chai tea that he makes based on his friend's grandmother's recipe from the old days in India...true story. They also have a little monument there that includes the door of the room where he died. You can also stay in that room. Weird, right?

The next stop was the Claude Bell's Dinosaurs, giant roadside sculptures located next along the 10 outside of Palm Springs. Apparently these creatures have been featured in such cinematic masterpieces as Pee Wee's Big Adventure and The Wizard, which according to Wikipedia, is a 1989 "adventure dramedy" starring Fred Savage. Apparently, weird was the theme of the day.

And it just gets weirder. Built in the 1960s as harmless roadside kitsch, the giant prehistoric dinosaurs were rather ironically purchased in the mid-90s by a group who advocates a creationist "Young Earth" perspective.

I know. Just wait, it gets worse. Inside Dinny (pronounced Dine-y), the giant brontosauraus, is a whole creationist museum/gift shop. Actually, weird doesn't really cover this place. At first it's sort of  funny because it's so ridiculous. I mean, the "museum" featured murals depicting humans and dinosaurs walking the Earth together, Flinstones style.

{I was afraid of getting yelled out for openly documenting the absurdity of this place that all of my pictures are blurry, but that is a painting of cave men with a triceratops in the background.}

So, at first I'm wandering through this place, just shaking my head in disbelief at all of the Darwin bashing and biblical arguments that humans and dinosaurs inhabited the Earth at the same time. One popular piece of evidence is this quote from the Book of Job:

Their theory, it seems, is that Noah, in some sort of epic fail, shoved off without checking to make sure the dinos were aboard. No joke, according to some Young Earth creationists that's "what really happened to the dinosaurs."

Anyway, this would all be sort of amusing except for the fact that these people are selling their belief system as a legitimate alternative to evolution. And they make children's books! My stealithly caputured snapshots of said books are super blurry, so these from the interweb will have to suffice.

I mean...have you ever? I just don't know. I'm all for religious freedom, but...I don't know. Imma take a deep breath and move on now...  It was a fun photo op anyway.

So, to sum up: 2012 is the year of yes, Joshua Tree is beautiful, I like camping when it's not too rustic, roadtrip Americana is weird to the max.

*"Really cold" by my standards means fifty-two degrees.

Miss Representation

Fair warning: I'm about to rant. I hope you'll bear with me; I promise to return to lighter fare soon. 

First, watch this:
                         
Newest Miss Representation Trailer (2011 Sundance Film Festival Official Selection) from Miss Representation on Vimeo.

Over the weekend, I watched Miss Representation, a documentary written, directed, and produced by Jennifer Siebel Newsom and aired on OWN (yes, that would be the Oprah Winfrey Network).  It is a powerful film, and I highly recommend setting your DVRs to record it when it airs again on November 12th at 11am. Miss Representation examines the way that women are portrayed in media today and the ways in which these media messages play out in and impact politics and our lives. To say that I was shocked by the statistics and media clips presented in the documentary would be an understatement. I found myself pausing the movie every few minutes to write down an appalling statistic or an insightful observation by one of the people Newsom interviewed. And now (lucky you), I want to talk about it. My apologies, but the nature of blogs means I get to do all the talking, at least at first. Feel free to add your thoughts in the comments.

To understand why media is so important and why we should even stop to consider the messages it presents, it's important to realize just how omnipresent it is, which leads me to shocking statistic number one. Each week the average American teen watches television for 31 hours, listens to music for 17 hours, is online for ten hours, reads magazines for four hours, and watches movies for three hours. That adds up to ten hours and 45 minutes each day; that's more time than they spend in school or interacting with their parents. So if people are spending that much time absorbing media during a period when they are also forming possibly life-long impressions of who they are and how the world works, I'd say that those media messages are pretty damn impactful.

The film began by addressing advertising and its impact on the self-esteem and body image of girls and women.

• As a result of deregulation, advertising is everywhere. U.S. advertisers spent 235.6 billion dollars in 2009. That is more than the GDP of 80% of the countries in the world. 
• Thanks to photo retouching software, that advertising is often misleading if not outright deceptive.

{Dove Evolution Campaign}

{The U.K.'s Advertising Standards Authority pulled these ads because they do not accurately represent the product's capabilities.}

• “This is the first time in human history that marketers have dictated our cultural norms and values.” - Caroline Heldman, associate professor, Occidental College
• 53% of 12 year old girls feel unhappy with their bodies, 78% of 17 year old girls feel unhappy with their bodies and 65% of women and girls have an eating disorder.
• The average American woman now spends more money pursuing the unattainable ideal presented by advertising than she does on her education.
• Americans spent $10,677,415,674 on cosmetic procedures in 2010.

The film continues with a discussion of women in entertainment, both on screen and behind the scenes.

• In feature films, only 16% of protagonists are female, and when the protagonist is a woman, she is usually concerned with getting or keeping her man. Only 7% of film directors and 10% of women.
• Between 1937 and 2005, there were only 13 female protagonists in animated films, and all of them, save one, aspired to find romance.
• In G-rated movies, the female characters are just as likely to be wearing sexually revealing clothing as in R-rated movies.

• More than 70% of women on TV are in their 20s and 30s.
• Women on "reality" TV are, almost always shown to be catty, shallow, gold-digging, and/or promiscuous.
• Study after study shows that exposure to television and film violence leads to an increase in aggressive behavior in real life. This is relevant here because television violence against women is on the rise, and one in four women will be a victim of domestic violence.

The parts of the film that I found the most surprising and the most disturbing were the segments that pointed out how the objectification and sexualization of women in advertising and entertainment has seeped into the news media.  The film showed clip after clip of newscasters and pundits talking about and evaluating the appearance of various female political figures. There was reference to Hilary Clinton as her "thighness," Sarah Palin was asked if she has breast implants and routinely called "cute" or "hot" by people who were supposed to be reporting the news and helping us evaluate her as a potential vice president. One talking head criticized Elena Kagan's appointment to the Supreme Court, not because of her record, but because of her looks saying, "Kagan he's gonna put on the Supreme Court? Isn't there such a thing about the aesthetics of the appointee? Let's put it to you this way, she's not the type of face you'd want to see on a five dollar bill." There were also a few disgusting quotes by Pat Robertson, but I think everyone pretty much agrees that he's an imbecile, so I'll leave them out.

• Only 20% of news stories are about women
• Female politicians are twice as likely to be described in emotional terms. They are said to have "complained" whereas their male counterparts "stated."
• In John Boehner's first four weeks as Speaker of the House, he was on the cover of five national magazines. In Nancy Pelosi's four years as Speaker, she appeared on exactly zero national magazine covers.

Let's not forget who is reporting all of this news. More often than not, the female anchors are beautiful young women with sex kitten hair and outfits that would not be considered appropriate business attire in most offices while their male co-hosts are older, decidedly average looking men in suits. [There are exceptions of course - Brian Williams is Clooney-esque and Diane Sawyer doesn't flash her cleavage or her booty on air.]

Finally, there's the ugly reality that while great advances have been made over the last hundred years (women now outnumber men in college), women have yet to attain true equality.

• America’s women continue to earn just 77 cents for every dollar men earn.
• Women account for 3% of Fortune 500 CEOs.
• Women make up 51% of the population and only 17% of Congress.
• "No wonder we are in such trouble in this country. We've been choosing our national leadership from 6% of the country. " - Gloria Steinem referring to the fact that the majority of American politicians are married white men over 35 with a college education and a professional degree.

If there were more women lawmakers, perhaps Sen. Patty Murray would have succeeded in passing a measure that would have prevented insurance companies from denying health insurance to women who have been victims of domestic violence. Unbelievably, she couldn't garner enough votes in 2006, so the measure failed and that practice continues in eight states and the District of Columbia.

• Cuba, China, Afghanistan, and Iraq have more women in government than the United States.
• “Little boys and little girls, when they’re seven years old, an equal number want to be President of the United States when they grow up, about thirty percent. But then you ask the same question when they’re fifteen and you see this massive gap emerging. We have this gendered socialization where politics is considered to be for men, leadership is considered to be a masculine pursuit and women are discouraged from pursuing ambitious positions.” - Caroline Heldman

Each of these facts and observations when taken individually may seem nitpicky, even whiny, but taken together, it's a serious problem. The fact is that the dominant message out there is that women's power and value come from their looks and their sex appeal. This message is a destructive one, and it has, frankly, made me hopping mad.

Once you stop to think about it, you see examples of this everywhere. Since it's Halloween, take costume shopping as an example. Go to the costume aisle at Target or a party store and look at the options for girls versus boys. Everyone knows that the options for adult women are basically Sexy Fill-in-the-Blank, Sexy Nurse, Sexy Cop, Sexy Pirate/Wench/Ghost/Whatever. Sadly, the little girl options are a slightly tamer version of the same thing. It's not like the guys have a wide array of choice either; their options are limited in a differnt way. Most of their costumes come with a weapon. Seriously, what the hell is wrong with us?

I am certainly guilty of watching the kind of trash TV that portrays women in a negative light, and I definitely fall prey to advertising that makes me feel all want-y and insecure. I'm not sure what the answer is but I am more conscious of the problem now, and that is a start. In any event, I apologize for the ranting, and I will be back to more light-hearted posts tomorrow sometime this week. For now, I'm off to observe the shenanigans that are West Hollywood's annual Halloween Costume Carnaval. I have a feeling that, in my hood, it will be the men who are objectified tonight, and can I just say? Daaayum. Those boys like to work on their bodies. I'll report back with photographic evidence of the craziness. If this year is anything like years previous, I'm in for quite a spectacle.

{source: Thee DOMASAN}

{source: ilmungo}

{source: PinkMafiaRadio}